


D.W.

by kittenofdoomage



Series: SPN Kink Bingo [14]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Bruising, Cutting, Dark fic, Deepthroating, Demon!Dean, Dom/sub, F/M, Fluff, Gunplay, Hardcore, Jealousy, Kidnapping, Knifeplay, Marking, Name Calling, Nipple Play, Painplay, Possession, Reader Insert, Restraint, Rough Sex, Sex, Smut, dom/Dean, dub con, sir!kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-13
Updated: 2017-07-13
Packaged: 2018-12-01 17:23:15
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,190
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11491089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kittenofdoomage/pseuds/kittenofdoomage
Summary: Written for spnkinkbingoSquare filled: Dark FicDean’s a demon, but he can’t quite leave the reader behind. How dark has his soul really gotten?





	D.W.

 

 The sound of your cell ringing made you stir, and you shifted your body, startled to find your cheek sticking to the leather backseat of the Impala. Your hands were bound in front of you, and you blinked, trying to see what was going on. Streetlights filled the inside of the car every few seconds, highlighting the back of Dean’s head. He was playing music, on a low setting, bobbing his head to the rhythm.

A groan left you, and you let your head roll back, and Dean’s eyes met yours in the rearview mirror. “Good morning, sweetheart,” he purred, a smirk on his face.

What the hell had happened? Why did Dean have you tied up…

Shit.

No.

This could not be happening.

He grinned again, his eyes flashing black, and panic seized you, prompting you to try and push yourself up into a seated position, tugging at the rope holding your hands. A dark chuckle filled the car, and Dean tutted loudly.

“None of that, baby girl. Won’t be long now, and we’ll be somewhere… relatively safe.”

“Dean… you’re… you’re…”

Another burst of laughter, making your skin crawl, and you looked out of the window, hoping for any sign to tell you where you were. Your cell was on the floor, buzzing with text messages, and you reached forward to pick it up, only for Dean’s voice to stop you.

“Wouldn’t do that if I were you,” he growled. “No need to go tattlin’ to little brother. We’re on our own now, Y/N.” Of course he wouldn’t want Sam to find him. Not if he was a demon, and he had you captive. “You remember what happened?”

How could you forget? “Metatron killed you,” you choked out, willing the tears away. The sight of Sam carrying Dean’s dead and bloodied body into the bunker was a scarring image that would last you a lifetime. You’d seen Dean beat up plenty of times before, but seeing his corpse… that was too much. It had been hours before you’d stopped crying, before you’d been able to help Sam clean up his brother and lay him on his bed, neither of you sure what to do with him.

“That he did,” Dean said, proudly. “But I’m back. New and improved.”

You weren’t quite ready to agree with that, but he was alive, so you took that as a small blessing. “So, you’re actually Dean then? Not some random black smoke -”

“All me, baby,” he interrupted, sneering at you in the mirror. “I’ll show you later, if you want.” A thrill of arousal went through you, almost immediately followed by shame. Dean had always been a sexual creature, and you’d always shared an intense relationship, but this… this was a whole new level of wrong. “Couldn’t leave without you. My favorite toy.”

“I’m not a toy,” you replied, lifting your chin defiantly. “Let me go, Dean. I won’t come after -”

He shook his head. “I’m not stupid. Sammy’s probably already looking for a way to find us, despite the note. I’m not gonna hurt you, Y/N. At least… not unless you want me to.” He wiggled his eyebrows, and you looked away, staring out the window onto the nameless street.

“Where are we going?” you asked, hesitantly.

“Somewhere safe.” The response was tight lipped, and you knew you wouldn’t get anything out of him. Nothing you could pass on to Sam, anyway.

Swallowing down your fear, you tried to make the best of your situation. Yes, Dean had become a demon and kidnapped you, but he was still your boyfriend. Dean was still in there. If he couldn’t leave without you, there was something of the former hunter inside this new black-eyed shell, and you were determined to bring him back.

Somehow, you’d bring him back.

*****

Three months later…

The door to the rented apartment slammed open, and you quickly stuffed the small cell into the tampon box, tossing it under the bed. It was on silent, so Dean wouldn’t hear it if it went off, and you never knew when Sam was going to try and call you.

It had been a game of cat and mouse. You thought Dean had caught you on several occasions, but as long as you were willing to play, willing to give him what he wanted, he didn’t bring it up. Sam had been trying to find him for months, and you’d finally gotten hold of a phone, able to contact your friend and let him know what was going on.

He’d been shocked to find out the truth.

“Honey, I’m home!” Dean called, tossing his jacket across the back of a chair in the dining room, smiling through the open doorway at you. “What have you been up to, baby?”

You gave him a coy smile, playing the act you’d kept up for months. “Had a shower. Read some. Not a lot.”

He grinned, placing his hands on the edge of the bed to crawl towards you. “You bored without me, sweetheart?” The smell of whiskey was strong on his breath, and you wondered what he’d been up to - you knew better than to ask. Dean sniffed, frowning. “That’s not a cologne I wear,” he muttered.

Shit. “Crowley came by,” you exhaled, the smile on your face wavering. “He was looking for you. Said he had a job for you.”

Dean grunted in irritation. “Always treating me like I’m his fucking pet.” He flopped down onto his belly, stretching out. “Give me a massage, baby. Work these kinks out for me.” His eyes were shut, and you hesitated. “I’m not waiting.”

Gradually, you moved towards him, straddling his hips and running your hands over his back, up under the thin shirt he was wearing. He groaned with pleasure, and you bit your lip, feeling your body’s automatic reaction to him.

“That’s it, Y/N. Give me what I need.”

You shuddered with arousal, still clueless as to the effect he had on you. The man - demon - could make you a helpless pile of jellied bones with a simple crook of his finger, and you sometimes hated it. But, all the while he was with you, he wasn’t causing more trouble, and it would be easier for Sam to catch him and cure him like he’d planned.

“You smell so good,” Dean rumbled, arching a little underneath you. “Fuck, want you wrapped around my cock, kitten.” The nickname added to your building need, and you didn’t resist when Dean bucked you off, using his superior strength and speed to have you pinned underneath him in a second. His teeth found your neck, biting hard, bruising the skin instantly, and you whined loudly for him. “Yeah, that’s it.” He ground his erection into your center, still biting along your throat until you were panting.

“Dean,” you whispered. “You… you have to go and see Crowley. You don’t… you don’t have time for -” His hand was in your hair, yanking your head back painfully and you cried out, unable to stop your lower half writhing against him.

“I have time for what I say I have fucking time for,” he snarled, pressing his lips to yours in a forceful kiss that set your skin aflame. “And Crowley can fuck off. He knows I don’t like him up here with you. He’s always fuckin’ staring.”

“Staring at what?” you asked, your voice high pitched with the strain he was putting on your neck.

“You.” He ran his tongue along your jaw, releasing his hold on your head the barest amount. “And you’re mine.”

The possessive streak had started not long after he’d kidnapped you. You’d stopped for gas about six hours away from the bunker, and you’d gone in to use the restroom, promising him you would come back, and meaning it. While he’d paid for the gas - you assumed - some tall trucker had leered at you, commenting on your tight ass.

Dean had rammed his head through a window, and you weren’t sure if you’d driven away from a dead body or not.

So, you were Dean’s. You accepted that, and didn’t fight him on it. The downside was his need for constant reassurance. Every night, it was like he was marking you, and you were permanently sore from his insatiable needs, which were, in all honesty, running a little darker than they had before. Compared to now, your previous sex life was practically vanilla.

Dean had never wanted blood with his playtime before.

His fingers grazed down over your belly, where he’d carved his initials deep enough to scar, and you whined pitifully, stretching to expose your neck to him. “What did I say, baby girl?”

“I’m yours,” you whispered, panting heavily as his fingers dipped lower and lower to trail underneath the waistband of your pants. You weren’t wearing underwear - Dean didn’t like the inconvenience of them - and he hummed appreciatively as he pushed one finger down to swipe over your slick folds.

“I don’t like him near you,” he growled, nipping at your neck. “He knows that, and he keeps pushing me. I don’t give a fuck if he’s the King.” The growls became purrs, and he nuzzled into you, stroking his finger over your clit repeatedly. “It’s my name on your lips when you come; it’s my cock you crave. Isn’t it, sweetheart?”

You nodded, gasping for breath as he used the calloused pad of his index finger to drive you higher and higher. When he suddenly stopped, you cried out in disappointment, opening your eyes to meet his, realising what he wanted. “Yes. Yes, Dean. Your cock, only yours.”

He grinned in satisfaction, returning to his ministrations on your pussy, and within seconds, he had you squirming and whimpering. You came as he sucked a dark mark into your neck, your entire body going limp with the exertion of your climax. Dean pulled his hand free from your pants, offering you his slick finger, and you sucked it into your mouth, swirling your tongue around it to make him groan.

“That’s it,” he encouraged, pulling his finger out of your grasp with a slight popping noise. “Fuck, wanna feel those pretty lips around my cock.” He moved backwards, climbing off of the bed to remove his pants, keeping his eyes on yours as he motioned to the edge of the mattress. “Over here. On your back.”

You swallowed, wiggling across the bed until you were laying with your head hanging off of the edge. It was easy these days to know where he wanted you with a few short words and a hand gesture, and you could feel fresh arousal pounding through your core as Dean kicked off his boots and pants, fisting his cock as he stood over you.

There were specific things that Dean liked; one was you licking his balls. Arching your neck, you trailed your tongue over the base of his cock, eliciting a strangled groan from him as you moved lower, tracing circles on his sac. He dropped then, and you sucked in a quick breath before pressing your nose into the spot just below his balls, suckling them into your mouth and using your tongue at the same time. His hand was moving furiously against his cock, and you moaned against him, feeling your lungs rapidly begging for air.

He pushed it to the edge, until you were tapping his leg for release, and still he gave it a couple of seconds before he pulled away, allowing you to drag in great gasps of air, just enough before he placed the tip of his cock at your lips. You opened your mouth obediently, resisting the urge to close your eyes as he started to work his length into you, not stopping when he felt the bump of the back of your throat. Dean didn’t like it when you closed your eyes doing this - he wanted to see them water, see you choke on his thick cock.

“That’s it, my little slut. Sucking cock like a pro as always.” His words inspired more heat in you, allowing you to focus on something other than the feel of his dick choking you, invading your throat and making it bulge under his fingertips. His balls were nestled against your nose now, and you dragged air in through your nostrils desperately, feeling your gag reflex trigger, but Dean didn’t stop.

He never stopped, and you wondered if there was something wrong with you for liking that.

A deep groan rattled him, and he started to pull out, only to thrust back in again, harder this time. His right hand grabbed your breast, squeezing hard, leaving fingertip shaped bruises on your skin, before he turned his attention to your nipples, pulling and twisting them until your legs were spasming. You rubbed your thighs together, desperate for some sort of release as he switched breasts, still fucking into your mouth, his other hand tracing the bulge of his cock buried in your throat.

“Such a whore,” Dean growled, pulling your nipple hard enough to make you yelp around his dick, which only made him do it again. Your nipples were red raw, but you needed more.

Staying with Dean might have saved something, or someone, but you had a feeling you were going to hell when it was all said and done.

“I’m gonna come in your throat,” he warned, his thrusts increasing. You didn’t shake your head or agree - there was no point denying what you wanted. The degradation of what he was doing to you was enough to have you teetering on the edge of orgasm, and you wanted more.

It hadn’t come down to it yet, but you remained convinced that if you truly didn’t want something, Dean wouldn’t do it.

His balls tensed against your nose, and you sucked in air as the first splatters of come missed your throat and dribbled out down your cheek, and then he was coming properly, holding his cock deep in your throat as he emptied himself into you.

When he pulled away, you managed to swallow the majority of what he’d left behind, immediately rolling onto your front. Come dripping down your chin, and you looked up at him with wide eyes and messy hair, making him chuckle.

“You look so pretty, all debauched like that,” he dropped down to his knees, fisting his hand in your messed up locks, dragging your mouth to his and kissing you fiercely, uncaring of the come still staining your lips and tongue. “Fucking beautiful.” He stood up again, and you turned, relaxing on the bed. Your pussy throbbed with the need to come, but touching yourself wasn’t an option - Dean called the shots, and he hadn’t given you permission; he wasn’t touching you.

You stretched, making a slow, reverberating and needy moan, and Dean raised an eyebrow at you, walking around the bed, slowly stripping his shirt off. “Dean,” you whispered. “Need to come.”

“What have I told you about begging?” he asked, tilting his head to the side. “It’s unbecoming of a lady, even one like you.” God, you could feel yourself pulsating at his words, your cunt clenching around nothing as he just stared at you. “You can come when I say you can come.” He reached down, slapping your thigh, hard enough to leave a handprint, and you yelped, unable to stop your ass from arching off the bed at the pleasurable sting.

“Yes, sir,” you whined, and he chuckled at your obedience, turning away from you. You kept your eyes on the rippling muscles of his back and ass as he opened the drawers, rummaging around for something. The object he pulled free was shining silver, and you inhaled sharply as you realised what it was.

Dean turned back to you, holding the short three inch blade in his hand, a wide smile on his face. “If Crowley isn’t going to get the hint, I’m going to make him.” Your eyes widened as he placed one knee on the bed, looming over you. “Don’t worry, baby. It won’t hurt. You know I always make it good for you.”

A slow nod was all the permission he needed, and he moved to straddle your waist, his soft cock resting against your belly, the warmth of his ass on your thighs. You whimpered with fear - it was hard not to in the face of a blade - but Dean only smiled and stroked one hand down your face, not stopping until he hit your belly, his fingers gently caressing the scar of his initials he’d already left on your soft skin.

“I need it somewhere he’ll see. Can’t have you naked all the time,” he purred. “As much as I would love that, I don’t want anyone seeing what’s mine.” You nodded, biting your bottom lip as he placed the tip of the knife against your belly button, dragging it up slowly. There was no pain - he hadn’t broken the skin yet - but the thrill and the threat were still there. “Hmmm, where can I put it that he’ll always see?”

Your eyes remained on his as he contemplated his canvass, moving the sharp point of the knife across the underside of your breasts, up and over your nipples, each one in turn, and you couldn’t help the little noises that left you. There was a high chance of there being a puddle of arousal underneath you when he finally moved, and you wished more than anything that he’d touch your clit while he was doing this, just to alleviate some of the need soaking your thighs.

The knife moved further up, coming to rest on your collar bone, at the point where your shoulders met your throat, and you held your breath, waiting for his decision. He pressed the tip in a little further, and you struggled to keep your eyes open as pain shattered your concentration.

“Right… here,” he whispered, moving to the side, allowing him the space to slip his left hand between your thighs, finally touching your neglected pussy. “Want you to come while I’m putting my mark on you,” Dean muttered, his tone dark and heady. You nodded, feeling the knife press against you again, warring with the sensation of his fingers on your pussy. He’d completely lifted off of you now, kneeling at your side so he could get a decent grip on the knife against your neck, and allowing him the angle to press two fingers deep into your cunt, his thumb rubbing over your clit.

It took less than a few seconds for your body to respond, and the addition of the blade cutting into you was accompanied by a complete white out. Your eyes fell shut as you panted and cried out, managing to somehow keep your head still while your legs curled up, your pussy clutching at his fingers greedily. Dean was laughing, but it sounded far away, and when you finally hit the peak, you tumbled down with a keening wail.

Moments passed, and all you could hear was your breathing. Dean had withdrawn his fingers from you, and the knife was gone, replaced by the soothing touch of his tongue lapping at the wound. The taste of your blood was something he was not shy about enjoying, and the feel of his mouth on your neck was enough to have you giving a breathy little moan of contentment.

“There,” he whispered, pulling back. “You wear your hair up all the time, and he’ll see exactly who you belong to.”

“Dean,” you replied, almost unable to keep your eyes open. “Sleepy…”

He leaned in, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “Then sleep, princess. I’ll be here when you wake up. Just gonna go and see what his Lordship wants.” The response you gave was an exhausted nod, and Dean pulled the covers up over you, smiling to himself as he redressed, still tasting your blood on his tongue.

Now, for the rest of your life, wherever you went, everyone would see the D.W. and know you were his.

*****

Stretching out, you looked over at the clock on the side, blinking at it. For a few seconds, your brain wouldn’t quite work, and you yawned, wincing as you felt the pull of the fresh scab on your neck. Your hand came up to touch it, tracing the raised letters of Dean’s initials, and the thrill of possession that ran through you was almost frightening.

“Sleep well?”

Dean’s voice made you bolt upright, and you saw him, sat at the bottom of the bed, his face impassive, and you swallowed, knowing something was wrong. “Dean?”

“So, I spoke to Crowley,” he said, his voice calm. “He mentioned that Sam was less than a few miles away. He’s been tracking us. Somehow.”

Your heart thundered in your chest, and you tried to appear cool about what he was saying. His eyes raised up to meet yours, accusation reflecting in them.

“Anything you want to tell me, Y/N?”

Slowly, you shook your head, and Dean sighed, standing up from the chair. He walked closer, around to your side of the bed, and you remained still, following him with your eyes. He stopped by the bedside table, and reached into his back pocket, dropping your secret cellphone onto the wooden surface, pursing his lips together in disapproval.

“I don’t like it when you lie to me.”

True fear gripped you, and you looked up at him shaking. “I didn’t… I wasn’t…”

“You’re trying to save me,” he said, still oddly cool. You were expecting him to fly off of the handle, possibly to even kill you, but he just stayed… calm. “I get it, I do. But you need to realise that I don’t want to be saved. I like what I am now.” He sat down on the edge of the bed, reaching out to trace one finger over the bruised and bloodied patch on your neck where his fresh mark lay. “And I know you like what I am too. Let’s face it, the old Dean never made you scream like this, did he?”

Another shake of your head; you were too frightened to speak, not trusting his demeanour, like fireworks would explode at any second. Dean sighed heavily, dropping his arm, looking disappointed.

“I’m not going to hurt you, Y/N,” he said, locking his eyes on yours. “I don’t know how many times I have to tell you that.” He looked sad and you didn’t understand. “But I feel like you’re trying to leave me. I can’t lose you.” There was a pause, confusion flickering across his face. “I don’t know why but I can’t. And I won’t.”

“Dean, I -”

“Sam will find us eventually, I know that. I don’t want it to come down to that, but he won’t leave it alone. I’ll kill him if I have to.”

Your chest tightened, and you worried that Sam wouldn’t give up. Now, you were regretting contacting him, especially if it meant his death at the end of a confrontation with his demonic brother. “Please, Dean -”

“We’re gonna have to leave,” he said, ignoring your repeated attempts to talk. “But I have to punish you for this, Y/N. You have to understand… I can’t let it slide. You’re mine, and you do what I say, when I say.” You nodded, almost woodenly, and Dean gave you a small smile. “I’ll make it good, don’t worry.”

“You always do,” you whispered, feeling like your throat would close up. It was difficult to imagine something new for Dean to punish you with - he’d gone way beyond whips and chains, and you bore the marks to prove it. There was precious little else on the list for him to do, but you knew he’d find something, just to satisfy his need to know you were his, and that you wouldn’t disobey him again.

“Pack your things,” he ordered, standing up. “I want you down at the car in twenty minutes.” You nodded again, waiting for him to leave before grabbing the cell. Opening it, you saw the cracked screen, and sighed. Of course, he’d rendered it unusable.

Sammy, I hope you’re safe. Please don’t come. There was no chance he’d hear you; he wasn’t an angel. But maybe you and Dean could outrun him, and nothing bad would happen.

*****

Twenty-two hours later, and Dean was paying for a room in a small motel the other end of Wisconsin. It was a complete dive, but you were bone tired, and in need of a bed rather than the front seat of the Impala. Dean had ditched all of his cards and phones on the way, and had robbed a guy at a gas station for the contents of his wallet, before withdrawing all the cash off of his cards that he could. There was enough to keep going for a few days, but right now, all you needed was sleep.

Hauling your bag into the room, you waited for Dean to lock the door, before methodically stripping to get into bed. Dean didn’t sleep - he had no need for it - but he always lay with you, sometimes stroking your back or humming until you fell asleep. It was the closest you felt to having the old him back, and despite the oddness of the situation, you wouldn’t give it up.

You bent over, going through your duffel for clean clothes for the morning, when a weight slammed into you from behind. A shriek left your throat, only to be covered by a hand a second later, and your first instinct was to call out for Dean.

Except… Dean was holding you.

Your eyes went wide, and your chest heaved as you struggled against his grip, feeling his cock harden in his pants, pressing into your bare ass. “Stop screaming,” he demanded, and you quietened, nodding, although you were more terrified of him than you ever had been before. “I said I had to punish you,” he whispered, his fingers leaving your mouth. “Do you accept your punishment?”

There was a lump in your throat, and you waited for him to drop you, your heart pounding in your chest as you slowly turned to meet his eyes. Everything in you was uncertain, but you knew that you needed this as much as he did. In the short time he’d been a demon, and you’d been with him, you’d come to rely on his touch, on the things he did to you, to make you feel whole, like a piece of you had been missing, and this new incarnation of the man you loved, even if you weren’t sure he loved you, was what you’d needed all along.

The slow nod of your head made relief flare in his eyes, and he smiled softly, cupping your face. “Good girl.” The affection he displayed was short lived, and you waited for instruction, feeling his eyes drag over you. The kaleidoscope of colors you were used to gave way to pitch black, and you suppressed a shudder. “On the bed. All fours. Head up, legs spread.”

It wasn’t an unfamiliar order, and you obeyed immediately, climbing onto the overused motel bed with a growing sense of apprehension. You had a safe word, although Dean had scoffed at it, and you sincerely hoped you didn’t have to use it. There was only a finite amount of trust between you, and Dean would certainly feel you’d betrayed him by contacting his brother.

The comforting thought was that Dean seemed to need you around, seemed to rely on your presence, and crave it. That might be the only thing that was keeping you alive and relatively unharmed.

“Keep your ass up,” he barked, and you arched your spine gracefully, holding the position, feeling the creak of your muscles protesting after so long in the car. It didn’t look like you were getting sleep any time soon. The bed moved behind you, and you resisted the urge to turn your head and look at him. “I’m gonna fuck you,” he growled, his hand sliding around the high ponytail of your hair, gripping it tightly, to the point of pain. “And you’re gonna scream for me, and come over my cock, begging for more.” Okay, so he was starting tame. “But first…”

Cold metal touched your cunt, and you jerked, unsure of what it was. The tip felt blunt, not rounded like a dildo or a plug, and you frowned as you tried to figure out what it was. A clicking sound echoed through the room, and you suddenly realised what Dean had pressed against your pussy.

“You feel that? That’s the barrel of my glock, baby. She’s loaded, and the safety is off. And I’m gonna fuck your pretty little cunt with it until she’s covered in your come.”

You sucked in a breath, feeling his grip on your hair tighten. He was waiting, waiting for you to use your safe word, to ask him not too, but fuck, if you weren’t getting wetter with the feel of the cool barrel against your pussy lips. Arching your back a little more, you opened yourself up to him, and Dean groaned deeply.

“You are such a dirty, fucked up little whore,” he praised, kissing the back of your neck. You whined, and he pushed the gun harder against you, sliding the metal a quarter inch into your pussy. “You like that? You like how my gun feels in your pussy, baby girl?”

“Yes, sir,” you whispered, keening as he pumped it into your slick channel a little more before pulling out and repeating the gesture.

“You wanna come?” he asked, and you nodded, biting your lip, feeling the tug of your hair, still in his grasp. He was nibbling at your shoulder now, and you could feel the rough denim of his jeans against your ass. “Good, that’s what I want. Fuck yourself onto my gun, baby. Make yourself come on it.”

He released your ponytail, sitting back on his knees as you started to grind yourself back onto the slick metal shaft of his glock. It took a few moments to adjust, with the strange shape of it, but when you felt the trigger guard press against your clit, you mewled, rolling your hips to fuck against the solid barrel with enthusiasm.

“Oh, that’s it, my beautiful little slut,” Dean purred, and you heard his zipper undo. “Fuck yourself with my gun. Fuck, you look so fucking pretty like this.” The words made you flush with pride, happy to please him, and you moved faster, feeling your orgasm spiralling from your lower belly. “Come on, come for me, baby girl,” he demanded, his voice a snarl as he pumped his cock to the sight of you writhing on his gun.

You panted hard, making noises that would make a porn star blush, and then you felt it, splitting and rushing through you, your pussy tightening around the metal shaft painfully. A scream left you, and Dean was grunting words of encouragement, but you couldn’t hear him over the blood rushing in your ears and the orgasm making you blind to the world.

And then the gun was gone, replaced by the soft, blunt head of Dean’s cock, and he was sliding home without even stopping. Your head dropped to the pillows, managing to rest there for a brief second before he was pulling you back up by your ponytail, ramming into you with enough force to slam the headboard into the wall.

“That’s it,” Dean groaned, forcing his cock into you until it hit your cervix painfully, making you scream out. It felt like you were coming over and over, unable to stop spasming around him, and you didn’t want him to stop. “Fuck, gonna come, gonna -” He roared, drowning out your scream, releasing your hair to let you fall onto the bed in a dishevelled sweaty heap. His hips were still slamming into you, his come running down the back of your thighs and spilling onto the bedspread.

When he finally stopped, and pulled away, you felt bereft and exhausted. Everything was sore, and you didn’t feel like you’d ever move again. Your legs shook with the force of your exertion, and you let your eyes fall shut, welcoming blissful unconsciousness.

“Wake up, sweetheart,” Dean whispered, and you answered him with a negative groan. “Come on, gotta clean you up.” You felt the warm wetness of a cloth between your legs, and you shifted to accommodate him, letting him clean away your combined spendings and the inevitable muck that had come from his pistol. “That’s it. Good girl. Turn over for me.”

It was more effort than you wished to use, but you obeyed, staring up at him with heavily lidded eyes. He smiled, looking more like the old Dean than ever, and you noticed he’d undressed.

“Get some sleep. We’ll need to head out again tomorrow.”

You nodded, lacking the energy to even speak, but you kept yourself awake long enough to feel him slide into bed beside you, his strong arms pulling you into his hold. Within minutes of his warmth surrounding you, you were asleep.

*****

It had taken another week for Sam to catch up, and this time, it was Crowley that had sold Dean out. He’d been furious with the former hunter’s refusal to do as he was told, and his preoccupation with you, that he’d given away your location, and there had been a violent encounter between the two brothers, before Dean was finally secured.

Sam wouldn’t let you ride in the Impala, with Crowley having told him about your unorthodox relationship, how you always obeyed Dean as he was, and insisting that it was safer for the King of Hell to take you back to the bunker until Dean was cured.

When he’d gotten out of his imprisonment, spitting, cursing, and howling for Sam’s blood, the younger Winchester had locked you away, stopping Dean from getting to you, and stopping you from getting to him.

You didn’t know if you cared whether he was a demon or not anymore.

Of course, Sam cured him. Dean was unconscious when you were finally released from your captivity, allowed to return to the bedroom you and Dean had shared for so long before everything had been swallowed up by the Mark and black eyes.

That was where he found you.

“Baby?” His voice was low, uncertain as he walked into the room, his eyes travelling the length of your body. Cas had healed you, taken away the marks that he’d carved into your skin, the bruises he’d lovingly cultivated to make you his, over and over.

You sat up, watching him, wary of his reaction, wondering how he felt about the things you’d done willingly when asked. “How are you feeling?” you asked, and he gave you a half smile, moving to sit at the end of the bed. You wanted him to crack a joke, even if it was about the stupid memory foam topper, or to even make some lewd remark to you, but he was quiet, and that was the scariest version of Dean you’d ever encountered.

Finally, he spoke, looking sad as he did. “I hurt you. I did… things… I’m…”

“Don’t say you’re sorry,” you whispered, feeling your heart clench. “Because I’m not. You needed those things. I needed those things.” Dean blinked, his face twisted up with uncertainty, and you moved, crawling towards him on the bed. “Whatever was making you like that… you never hurt me intentionally. Everything you did, you did because you love me.”

He swallowed, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he did, and he reached out, cupping your face with a gentle touch you’d missed so much. “I cut you. I made you -”

“Dean, I don’t care,” you insisted, pressing in close, nuzzling your face into his. “I enjoyed everything you did to me. Whatever we are, wherever we go from here… I don’t want you to feel guilty about any of it.”

“Cas said that I… that we…” He shifted uncomfortably. “He insinuated that demon’s take mates. And you… you were mine.”

The possessive uncurrent in his tone made you shiver, and you smiled, nodding. “If that’s the word for it, then I’ll take it. Whatever it was, I was closer to you than I ever have been. Maybe it was a different version of you, but I still loved you then, and I still love you now.” You paused, raising your eyes to meet him. “Whatever you need, I’ll give you, I promise that.”

He didn’t say anything for a few moments, simply holding your face with one hand, his thumb tracing over your cheek. “Whatever I need?” he repeated, and you nodded, not breaking the eye contact. “I just need you,” he whispered, like he was admitting a deadly sin. “Always you.”

You smiled, feeling tears in your eyes. “Then that’s what you’ll have.”


End file.
